Know The Tears'll Do No Good
by lawlzchocolate
Summary: Mello is overwhelmed, and realizes he needs help from someone. Anyone. In his desperation, a name comes to him from his past: Matt. MxM, Rated M for swearing and later smut.
1. How painful it must be

It's raining.

Shit, I think to myself. Shit.

Now by the time I'll get home, I'll be cold, hungry, sore, and wet.

Jesus fucking Christ this rain is so fucking bad. Then, I spy it not to far ahead, and give a sigh of relief that momentarily fogs up my helmet. If I wasn't gripping the handlebars of my motorcycle for dear life in this rain, I would've clasped my hands together in a prayer of thanks. when the crappy run-down apartment complex I call home appears in the distance.

I get off the cycle. It feels like every bone and muscle in my body are simultaneously on fire. I'm so fucking sore, and with my lifestyle, it's no surprise.

Every morning, I'm up at daybreak, and ready to go out. I have important business to take care of, errands to run for the mafia, which are anything from just getting information from a source to killing ten people at once. Then it's to work on the case, which successfully makes my brain numb. By the time I'm home around two, I'm ready to die, like now. But I can't fall into my coma of sleep just yet, I think as I trudge up the stairs to my miserable apartment. My door doesn't even lock. I just give it a push, and it opens. I'm greeted with my bare living room. It's nothing but several tables with monitors and television screens. I squint against the harsh light of so many monitors, all running full time, all the time.

It's their fault I'm stuck living in a place like this. Even with the generous amount of money I "find", it takes all I have to run these things all day and night. I have to be on the constant lookout for information on Kira, so now that I'm home, it's time to watch them.

Throwing my coat to the floor, I kick off my boots, and change from my usual attire of leather to something more comfortable to be sitting on hardwood floors for the next few hours.

Even they feel comfortable and warm compared to being outside on a night like tonight. Though hell, with the rain pattering loudly against the windows and walls, and the floor under me being gently warmed by my body heat, I'm downright comfortable. I try to stay conscious, but in a few minutes, I am out cold on the floor. A nuclear war over my roof wouldn't have woken me.

When I wake, sunlight is streaming through my window. My entire body is stiff and in worse pain then last night. As I brush a strand of blond hair that hadn't been washed in so long it was almost brown out of my face, I finally admitted to myself: I needed someone to help me.

I groan when I sit up, rubbing my neck. My hand comes back with old dried blood on it. I don't even know how long that's been there. I need a shower. I need a fucking spa day. I may not be able to get a spa, but I know I have a shower, and cold water is better then no water. And it is, I think as I let the water rush down me. It's been so long since I've actually bathed. This was taking time I couldn't afford, but would take anyway. As the water run down me, I think about getting myself some help on the case. It wouldn't be anyone from the mafia. I couldn't see myself giving them orders anyway. No, I need someone good with technology, computers and shit like that. But I was compromised. I couldn't afford to pay them, and they'd probably have to be living here with me, and I doubt any of the hacker's-for-hire I knew would like to be in that situation. They'd laugh in my face.

An idea is forming in my mind, but I don't want to think about it. However, I'm running out of other ideas, so finally I allow myself to explore the idea further. Wammy's House. As much as I fucking hate that place, I think I'll need to get someone from there. Not that little fucking twit Near. He was already running his own investigation, and I would have nothing to do with it, not if I could help it. A name tugs at the edge of my mind, followed with a flashback. A little red-headed boy with goggles and a videogame in hand, that kid who followed me around. M…. Matt? Yeah, that was it. Then I'm bombarded by old memories. That's right, Matt. I wonder how I'd forgotten about Matt, the poor kid who'd spent his life from the time he got to the House following me around. He was like my fucking dog, and he was the only person I actually felt regret for leaving. Matt. I wonder if he'd still come to me if I called, or if he'd just find some way to tell Kira about me. Hell, maybe he was working with Near and would give away my location to him. I don't even care. It has to be done. If I keep going at this rate, I'll be as dead before I can destroy the bastard who killed my only fucking hero. I'll try later today, to get in contact with Matt. I have to do it, for the sake of L.

Don't worry L. M will avenge you. Your death wasn't in vain. I swear to god it wasn't in fucking vain.

------

Author's Note:

This is my first fanfic! Please don't be too harsh with me.... ;~;


	2. To bruise so easily inside

I'm putting my Kira project n hold and staying home from "work" for a few days. I'm going to try to get in contact with Wammy's House today, to see what information I can find out about Matt. Naturally, to protect my location and identity, I have several programs in my phone made to make my line untraceable. I can't let Near find out where I am.

The phone rings several times before someone picks up. I am greeted by a friendly, kindly older voice. He asks me my business with Wammy's House, and I simply tell him I'm looking for one of their past children, and if he could kindly give me any information thank-you-very-much.

I'm left with a politely phrased go-fuck-yourself. Naturally, his word's are less crude then mine, but I know I won't get any information this way. Looks like I'll have to revert to my other plan for finding him.

Anyone, anywhere in the world can be found, if you are willing to go low enough and to the right people. I know these people. Slimy, not to be trusted, dangerous. Just like me, it seems. I don't even need to give them the full name, just a basic description as I remember him, the name Matt, and the basic location of where we came from. They group of dirty hackers smile at me, then send me back on my merry way. They have their own ways of finding people, and they don't need others knowing. I doubt I want to know anyway.

I'm walking down the street. I don't think it will take long for my team of freaks to find out all of Matt's current personal information. This feels like an invasion of privacy. Hell, it is. I feel bad for this poor guy. He's being stalked by someone he hasn't seen for a good five years.

I stop walking, leaning in the darkened doorstep of a shop against the chainlink they put up to prevent theft. Wow. It's only been five years. Only five fucking years. How fast my life has changed.

It's weird, thinking that just five years ago, I lived in an orphanage. I shared a room with my best friend, Matt. I had the second best test scores in the country, after Near, my only enemy. I had an idol, L. And I knew right from wrong. Back in those days, before I'd really seen the world and realized what I'd have to do to make my way through it, right and wrong had been as different and as clear as black and white. Now my life is just shades of Grey.

I start walking again. I can't really just stand there under the doorstep in the shadows. I'd say I look like a criminal, but I am, so it would be repetitive. It starts raining again, but I saw this coming. It's been cloudy and overcast here all day. So, in the dark of the night and chill of the storm, I'm walking all alone. Not too far ahead, I spot a small children's playground.

Being in the city, this poor, miserable place looks more like teenage hunting grounds then a place for children. I know I sure as hell wouldn't bring my kid here, but I feel perfectly safe as I sit down on the only unbroken swing. I just sit there. It's comforting, being in the rain, especially when it's like this: gentle and cool.

All too soon (or perhaps not soon enough?) the phone in my pocket rings.

"We've got him," the voice tells me before hanging up. I sprint through the dirty city streets, back to the Rat's Den. The Head Rat hands me a small slip of paper with numbers and words scribbled down. I can hardly hide my excitement. I toss a few twenties to the Rats, and I'm out. I don't even mind the snickers of some of them, and the comment I heard about "finding my boyfriend" one of them made as I left.

I'm on my way home now. The paper with the precious information is safely in my pocket. Nothing will leak through that leather, so I know that it won't be damaged.

When I get home, I simply look at the small paper. An address (out of this state, so I'll probably have to get him here somehow. Whatever, I'm in the mafia. I'll find a fucking way to get him here fast if I want him here fast. Some other numbers, shit, more shit, annnd....

Why hello there, email and phone number.

I open up another tab on one of the many open internet browsers. Like my phone, all of my computers have been programmed to not give away my location, and I employ the use of proxies just in case. i feel perfectly secure when I open up my never-used email. I type out a brief, to-the-point email.

"Hello Matt.

It's been years, and rest assured, it's only in the darkest hour of need that I feel I have to contact you.

Believe me when I say, I wish things could have gone better back at the orphanage.

Now, however, is not the time for discussing that.

I have your current address, as well as very personal information about you.

I could forcefully bring you here anytime I want, but now, I'll give you the option of getting here by yourself, in a far more comfortable fashion."

I have to admit, they weren't exactly endearing opening lines. I didn't care. Either he'd take it, or he'd learn to. I didn't have time to play around anymore. I typed a bit more, giving a very vague explanation of what I was doing and what he'd be doing for me if he came. Finally, I enclosed a phone number.

"Call that number as soon as you get this message. If this isn't responded to within forty-eight hours, I will send people for you. It's in your best interest to call."

With that charming last sentence, I clicked the send button. Now I could only wait and hope that it wouldn't come to force.

Can you see me up there, L? I hope you're watching. I doubt you'd approve of my methods, but this is all for you. No, that's a lie. It's for Near too. I'll shwo you both who number one really is.

I'll show you what I can do, L. Are you proud of me?


	3. It's a pity, it's a downright crime

_Day after day, it's all the same to me. I wake up. I eat. I smoke. I play my games. If I'm feeling particularly adventurous, I'll go down to the strip club, and if I'm feeling up for a real thrill, I'll bring a dancer home with me. Either way, by the time the sun rises, I'm in my bed alone again, ready to start a new cycle of nothingness. I don't have a job. All my money comes from a fund, set up by Wammy's House. The top three students were supposed to be set for life with the money L left for us, but when Mello left, he refused help from the House, so I get his share too. It's enough to live my lifestyle. Sooner or later, they won't even have to pay me. I won't be alive for that long. I'm sure that sooner or later, my destructive behavior is going to get me killed._

_Someone once said, "To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." That's how I've seen my life so far. I'm surrounded by people , who, like me, only exist. None of us are truly alive, just riding the cycle. My cycle hasn't changed for five years, when I left shortly after him._

_They tried to stop me from leaving, just a few weeks after he had. Wasted talent, I heard. I didn't care, and still don't. I'm numb on the inside. I'm comfortable in the numbness, the loneliness. I don't talk to people, and they don't talk to me. As far as everyone is concerned, I'm just that weird guy who lives alone and plays his games._

_It struck me as odd when I heard the little voice declaring that I had mail come from my computer. As I mentioned, I don't talk to people. I assumed it was spam, but turned to check it anyway. Inside, I felt the strong desire to break the monotony with anything. Anything at all, even if it was only some spam. Imagine, if you can, my surprise, when I find, instead of a Nigerian Prince Requesting My Help! A message from an unknown email address, with the title : M._

_Someone from Wammy's House? I wonder. Very few people know about the whole alphabet thing they've got going on there, so I figure this much actually be important. I open the email. By the time I'm done reading it, I'm trembling. With shaking hands, I light up a cig. After a few minutes, I feel better, but I'm still shaky. I look at my phone, laying to the side. With hands that are suddenly ice cold, I begin to dial in the numbers at the end of the email. Here goes nothing, and everything. _

I sat there, staring at my crappy wall phone. No, I can't afford a fucking cell. I'm nervous, and the anticipation is getting to me. I unwrap a bar of Hershey's Chocolate that I've been keeping in my freezer. I haven't had any of this for months, when I realized that if I got teeth problems, I don't have dental insurance of any kind to pay for fixing my teeth. But it's like an addiction for me. It's been far too long since my last bar. When I taste the sweetness of the chocolate, it's like sex for me. This is my addiction, and having it awakens my senses, just a bit.

Then, the phone rings. I stare for a minute. Can it be? What the fuck am I thinking? Of course it is. I answer the phone.

"I-is this Mel-"

"This is," I said, cutting in. I don't need him to say my name over the line. Who knows if his side is tapped or not? This isn't the time for friendly greetings.

"I need your help." He starts to say something, but I interject.

"Don't say anything. Let me talk.

I need your help. You once told me, years ago, that you would always be by my side. You promised. Even though we were only kids then, I need to take you up on that promise. This is a matter of life and death, and I can't allow you to say no. Too much depends on this."

I explain to him a bit more about my plan. "Are you in?" I ask. I realize I barely needed to when he answers.

"You know I am," he says. I have to crack a smile. I recognize that voice even after five years and, from what he sounds like, a lot of drugs.

"Good."

I email him the instructions, a plane ticket, and my address. I'm nervous about doing this, but then again, I'm fucking justified. For someone who works for the mafia, as well as searching for one of the most dangerous criminals ever to walk this earth, giving out personal information like this is almost painful. But it has to be done.

_I put down the phone, and print out everything he sent me. I don't believe it, but I have to. Mello. He wants me to come to him, after all this time. I wonder if I should be mad. He left me. He left me alone to fend for myself in a world where he knew we needed each other. I should be angry, I suppose. But, the thing is, I'm not. I feel like a puppy that been kicked away, but loves its owner anyway. _

_With Mello, I think he could have destroyed everything I own, cut off my cock and ate in in front of me, and have been the one who killed my parents, and I still would've come running back to him. It's pathetic._

_ I'm pathetic. _

_Yet somehow, I don't care. I throw a pack of cigs, some of my clothes, and my gameboy into a bag. It's so easy to just walk away from my life here. I'm glad I'm walking away. I don't belong here._

I look around my miserable apartment. He'll be here within two days, and I've just realized that I only have one bed, and one blanket. He'll have nowhere to sleep. God up there, why are you so cruel to me? I live in the smallest, crappiest apartment in Los Angeles. I might as well have a sign like the one leading into hell from Dante's Inferno: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. But you know what? Even if this is hell, I created this for myself.

I think that yes, it is better to rule in hell then serve in heaven.

Can you see how I suffer, L? Give me the strength to go on, just a little while longer. I can't take this. You'd be able to tell me what to do. You're more of a God to me then the man up there ever was.


	4. It happens all the time

_It's surprisingly easy to just pack up and leave. I don't tell my landlord where I'm going. I don't tell those charming folks at Wammy's House. I've got my check from them in the mail, and have turned it into some cash. It's not much, but I'm sure every little bit helps. He is flying me over there, the least I can do is pay him back for my plane ticket._

_Right before I leave, I scan what's left in my apartment. I'm depressed at what I see. I see the evidence of someone with no life at all. I'm glad to be getting away from here, even if it's to a place where what I'll be doing might get me killed._

_Mello may not realize it, but I hate Kira just as much as he does, but for different, although related, reasons. He hates Kira because Kira killed L. I hate Kira because, when L died, Mello left, and when Mello left, I died a bit too._

_I shake my head. I'm so fucking gay sometimes. With that last charming though, I close the door, pick my pathetically small bag from the floor of the hallway, and leave._

I've tried to make my apartment more inhabitable for someone besides me. It isn't working very well. I'm making a note here, complete failure. I gaze around the still cluttered, still small, still ugly rooms. Well, at least there aren't wrappers on the floor anymore. I shoved those all into my closet, seeing as I don't own a rubbish bin.

My closet is one of the only places in my house that's full of something besides computers, wires, cables, and other crap like that. Someone gazing in would probably think I stole it's contents. I guess if I sold most of my leather, silver, and fur, I'd have enough money to move into a nicer place. I'm too fucking stubborn. I wear everything in there, and I refuse to sell it. If I'm going to live in this filthy dump, I'm going to look good.

I glance at the clock.

I'm instantly alert. Matt's plane should be landing soon.

Now, as a wanted criminal, an airport would probably not be the best place for me to show up. A quick call fixes this. One of the few people I can almost trust from the mafia is going to be there waiting for him. I can return to my attempted cleaning up in peace.

_I step off the plane, queasy. I hate heights, Jesus Christ, how I hate heights. I thank whatever gods are watching over me that I didn't pass out. The flight attendant winks at me as I race to get away from the plane, but I pay her no heed. She was a pretty girl, and think she tried to give me her number, but I didn't eve look at anything she gave me. Hope she's not offended._

_After claiming my (one) bag, I leave the airport. I head to the fancy-looking hotel across the way from the airport. It's all part of the plan he and I had discussed. He'd told me to go to the café on the first floor, and that I'd be picked up from there._

_As I walk in, the workers ignore me. I feel better that they don't pay attention to me, because that would bring up unwanted questions. If I just acted like I belong here, nobody questions me. It's when I get to the café, which is deserted, that I realize I have no clue what comes next. Will Mello be here? Ill he send someone else? How will I know? Shit, I'm so confused. Questions swirl through my head. I need a fuckin' smoke. As I stop paying attention for long enough to get the damn thing out of the pack I have stored in my pocket, I can sense movement in the darker corner of the hallway. By the time I look up, it's too late. I feel the pinch of a needle, and then I'm flying fucking high. I'm being led by this huge guy, eyes wide as saucers. The thought that I've been drugged doesn't even cross my mind. Nothing much does at all._

_I actually come to my senses, and I have no clue where I am at first. Then, I feel a jolt from the floor, and I realize, I'm in a car. My mind is spinning from whatever that guy (who was now driving) put in me, but I didn't want to say anything, because the one watching me didn't exactly look like officer friendly. He see's that I'm (awake?) and gives me a small nod. I take that to mean they're taking me to Mello._

_Wrong._

_I switched cars three or four times, with different drivers every time. Finally, the last one comes to a halt on a dreary, poor-looking street. A polite way of saying it is that the man who had been driving this car literally kicked me out, and threw my bag after me as he sped away._

_Climbing to my feet, I look around. Large, crappy apartment complexes, and not a soul in sight. I have no clue which one is his. I can't call him, I left my phone back at my old place. It could've been used to trace me, and now I have a reason to hide. I don't need Wammy's House stalking me here._

_Well, shit._

_I sit on the curb and take out my Gameboy. Sooner or later, I'll get an idea, but until then, I might as well entertain myself._

When I get a simple call, telling that Matt has been delivered, I wait patiently. And wait. And wait. This is really pissing me off, after I've been waiting for an hour. I stick my head out my window, trying to see if I can find him.

What I do see is a red-haired guy sitting on the curb, fiddling with something. Even from my position on the third floor, I can tell it's probably a phone, or one of those handheld gaming systems.

I can't see any other reason someone would just sit there, so this has to be Matt. I'm excited, but out of habit, I mask my emotions. Putting on my calm, cold face, I glance in the mirror. This is the first time I'm seeing this dude in five years, and I intend to make an impression. And, in my honest opinion, nothing makes an impression like leather, crosses, and the outline of my gun, not-so-hidden in my waistband.

I'm down the stairs pretty fast, and almost completely silent. It's not like the neighbors are going to care, even if I stampeded down. Everyone in this building has something to hide, and none of us are gonna call the cops on the other for something like being too loud.

He's sitting there, barely twenty feet away. Memories of the House come flooding back, but I push them aside. This is no time to be sentimental. When I'm about ten feet away, I pull out my gun. I aim for a spot on the ground next to him.

The loudness of the shot (probably along with the fact that it was very, very close to him) certainly caught Matt's attention. He jumped to his feet.

_I have to admit, that scared the crap out of me. I drop my Gameboy, and scramble around, only to see Him. He looks like a god to me. I've never seen a mortal person with eyes that blue._

_The gun is aimed at my forehead._

_"Would you be willing to die for this?" he asks me._

_It's been five years since I've heard that voice up close. The last time I heard it, it was choked with sorrow. Emotion. Now it was blank, but I could hear a hint of the weariness he must feel. He was trying to be strong, and frightening, and he was succeeding, but I could hear something he was trying to hide too._

_"Y-yes," I manage to reply. I'm scared shitless._

_He moves in, closer. Oh god, the look in his face right now. I think he's actually going to kill me. He's brought me here so he could fucking kill me himself. I'm scared fucking shitless, but I'm not going to go a coward. I clench my eyes shut, and listen, waiting for the gunshot. It doesn't come. After several seconds, I cautiously open my eyes. Then gun's gone, and He's right in front of me, looking me in the eyes._

_"Then what are you sitting on the ground for?" he asks, and for a second, I see a flash of the Old Mello, the one I spent my childhood with, in front of me, but it's gone._

_"Come on," he says, offering me a hand to get up. He's so cold. I have to resist the urge to squeeze his hand to warm it. But no, the contact is broken after helping me up, and I follow him up to the apartment where we will now live._

I felt bad, doing that to Matt. But I had to know if he'd face death for this. I hope he'll forgive me for that, but I won't apologize. I'm leading him up the stairs, and I get to the door of my apartment.

"Welcome home," I say dryly, pushing open the door.

He's here, L. Now I'll be able to find Kira that much faster. Just a little while longer, L.


	5. You wanna stay little daddy's girl

_It's funny, but I'm not scared at all as I walk into Mello's apartment. I mean, this guy just shows up out of nowhere, threatens me if I don't come to him, and when I do come, he aims a gun at my head._

_A normal person would be afraid._

_I'm not afraid._

_Not at all._

_I have nothing but the fondest memories of Mello. As I follow him to the room we're going to be sharing (Jesus Christ Dying on the Cross, this place is small) I reflect about our days at Wammy's House, specifically, the day we met._

_I was about seven when my parents died. Already at that age, I was showing a huge potential, and seeing as I had no other family, Wammy's took me in. I remember my first view of the House. It was grey and cold outside, and it looked large and imposing to me. I was afraid, but the worker who had brought me there gripped my hand, trying to be encouraging. I wasn't going to let her cheer me up though. I think I had it in my mind that I was going to be sad and miserable forever. I didn't want to be happy._

_But when she led me inside, it wasn't the dark, dreary place I had come to expect an orphanage to be. The media showed me the images of a cruel and lonely place where the starving children fought over everything. This place was warm and friendly looking, and while the children we passed stared curiously at me, they didn't seem outright cruel._

_I barely listened as the worker talked to me, trying to make me feel better. She told me about the people here and all the friends I would make, and her words sounded promising, but I was stubborn. I wouldn't like this place, I told myself, and nobody would like me. I was going to be miserable for the rest of my life._

_When Watari came to talk to me about changing my identity to protect me, and that instead of Mail, I was now Matt, I didn't care. I didn't care when he told me about the school here, and the classes I'd be taking. I didn't care when he told me that if I worked hard, someday, I could become the next L. And of course, I didn't care when he told me that I'd be rooming with a boy named Mello, who was right around my age, and that we should get on wonderfully._

_As one of the workers led me to the room I would be sharing with the Mello, I trudged behind, threw a temper tantrum, and just made hell for the poor lady. When we got to the room, she practically pushed me inside, telling me that Mello would help me._

_I stepped into a small room with two beds. It was messy, at least on one side, as if someone who was used to having the entire place messy had just taken half the mess and pushed it over to the other side. I didn't see him at first. The room had seemed empty and silent when I walked in. I happened to glance in the closet, which was next to the door, and then next thing I knew, I saw a pair of icy blue eyes staring at me from the darkness, and then I was sprawled on the floor, pinned before I even realized what had happened._

_I looked up to see a blonde girl sitting on top of me. This was Mello?_

_"I thought I was gunna share rooms with a boy," I grumbled. I didn't even feel the punch at first. It took a few seconds for me to register the fact that the girl had hit me._

_"I ain't no girl," growled the figure pinning me down._

_"But you look like one."_

_"No, no no! I do not like lika girl!"_

_Yes, he did, but after that hit (my shoulder was going to be bruised from that one) I decided it would be better for me to stay quiet when around this temperamental little figure._

_"Get off me."_

_Surprisingly, he did. And Mello even reached a hand down to help me up._

_"I'm Mello," he announced._

_"I'm Matt."_

_"Shut up."_

_And that's how our friendship started. For the next several years, I would follow Mello around everywhere. We would do everything that best friends do together as we grew up. We formed our own "no-girls" club, we had games of pretend, and we destroyed action figures. I felt like we were family, and you're supposed to love your family, right?_

_I imagine I did love Mello. In a brotherly way, of course, but as I got older, and began to have "real" feelings, I questioned myself._

_On the night Mello left, I had something I wanted to tell him._

_I had been trying to work up the courage to do this for months. We were only fifteen (almost sixteen!) but as I had been living with him for years, I think I felt sure enough of my feelings to tell Mello that I was gay. I wouldn't mention who it was for or anything, but I figured it wouldn't be hard to figure out. I was afraid this was going to ruin what we had. We had the perfect friendship, and to risk ruining it.. It had taken weeks of never of thought and contemplation, trying to figure out what I thought was right._

_I went walking through the grounds that night. It was raining, and in the darkness, the rain was like this strange, unseen alien force. It was ominous, a sign of things to come._

_When I finally got called inside by one of the workers, I took my time getting to our room. I was afraid._

_When I finally did, it was a scene out of my worst nightmare._

_Mello's side of the room was almost empty. He was standing there, trying to fit all of his clothes into a single bag. He turned around, but it was like he didn't see me. He shoved past me, tripping me and making me stumble, and then fall. As I sat there on the floor, stunned, I watched him walk away. I didn't even call his name._

_I would find out what had happened later on from the higher ups. Watari and L were dead, Mello had refused to work with Near to become the new L together, and had left. It struck me that if hadn't been so afraid to ruin our friendship by telling Mello that I loved him, that if I hadn't spent that time outside, I could have been there for Mello. I could have stopped him from going and leaving me alone, and from being on his own._

_When Mello left, I fell into a depression. Within a year, I was addicted to smoking and gaming. I lived in the fantasy world of my games, and soon enough, I decided to leave, as Mello had a few months earlier. I let the people at the House pick out an apartment for me, and they gave me some allowance to buy what I needed, but they had given me up for dead. I was dead._

_"Hey. Hey. Hello?"_

_His voice calls me back to reality._

_I listen to him as he tells me that he couldn't afford another bed, so I'd be sleeping on an old mattress, next to his bed. That was fine with me. We are both tired, it seems, and ready for sleep._

_He falls asleep quickly, and I stare up at him. In the moonlight coming through the bare window, his is beautiful. An angel. Lucifer the fallen, perhaps._

_I know that tomorrow, the work is going to start, and it will be hard, and it will take it's toll on me. That toll might even be my life. That's okay. I'm prepared to accept that, for Mello._

_Anything for Mello._

_L, if you're listening to me, I hope you realize how much you mean to Mello. Keep him safe, please._


	6. You wanna hide from the vicious wolf

Even after being alone for so long, it's unnervingly easy to get used to Matt's presence. Here's like a watchdog at my side. Every morning, when I wake up, he's been up and is already dressed, and has something ready for me, like some kind of wife. This is the second week he's been here, and we haven't spoken much, just enough for me to explain to him his job and the details he needed to know about mine.

The silence between us is tense. I'm not a social butterfly, but I know when someone is hiding something from me. Matt definitely is, and it's driving me insane.

This morning, I wake up, and wait. The moment I notice him stirring from his sleep, I have him pinned under me. The sun is just rising now, and below me, he is shrouded in shadow, as I block him from the light.

_As I wake the embrace of what was a fairly pleasant dream, I was stirring at my normal time. It's become my morning ritual to awaken at dawn, sit and stare at Mello's face is the first light of the day, then get everything ready for him. I want to be close to him, but I don't know how to anymore. How do I tell my old best friend that I want to jump his bones whenever I see his face? That I've spent many lonely nights with thoughts on him in my head while I released myself, imagining it was him._

_With a yawn, I open my eyes, and suddenly, WHAM! Something knocks me down. I'm winded, and gasp for breath. When I open my eyes, I'm dazzled. From the window, the early morning g light creates a halo of gold around his messy morning hair. His eyes are shining like gemstones; green or blue, I can't even tell. He's in nothing but the pair of beat up black pajama bottoms he wears to sleep. And he is straddled around me. I look up, wondering if my innermost fantasies have come true._

_"What are you hiding from me?" he asks. His voice is ice, and fire at the same time. It's driving me mad, in more ways then one. I pray he doesn't notice. I try so hard to contain myself._

_"Wh-what are you talking about?" I stammer. He keeps his stare level. He know that I know what he's talking about. There's no words to tell him. I simply reach up for his face_

And he pulls it down to meet his lips. I'm stunned for a moment, but then I react, kissing him back. So this was why the long awkwardness. Fine. If this was what he wanted, if it would relieve the tension in the cramped apartment, so be it. I hadn't had sex for a long time, but it is always a good way for me to relieve my tension. Never before with a man though, but that didn't bother me. Matt wanted this, he's bringing it on himself.

_The kiss seems to last forever, but even forever comes to an end eventually._

_"Mello?" I ask, confused, but he ignores me. I feel my face flush as he looks over my body. I'm still half-covered in blankets, but not for long. He throws them off of me. I'm just a small, frail looking figure on the floor, and I'm pretty sure that now he can see the erection that's quickly growing. I glance at his face again, his eyes are looking there. Yes, he see. I flush a deeper pink, but as embarrassed as I am, I can't leave the sight of his face and those burning eyes. I feel his hands come from nowhere tug at my pants and boxers. They're pulled down unceremoniously. I'm naked and exposed under his watchful eyes. I feel one of his cold hands grab my length. The sudden pressure then sends a wave of pleasure through me. He observes this, and then releases it long enough to pull his own bottoms down. He guides my body to my hands and knees. From behind me, he snakes a hand under and grabs me again. I can't hold back the small gasp I made as he slowly moves his hand up and down. Again, I am utterly disappointed when he lets go, but not for long. I know that behind me, he is positioning his member at my entrance._

_It hurts when he puts it in. The low groan that escapes my lips isn't from pleasure, it's from pain. I think Mello can tell, because he waits. I slowly adjust to the feeling of him inside of me, before I finally mutter, "Move."_

_If he had a problem with me giving the orders, he doesn't do anything about. He picks up a rhythm of in and out, in and out. I am beginning to wonder when it will feel good for me and this pain will go away, when he touches the part of me that sends shivers down my spine. I let out a gasp. "More, more," I whimper. He picks up the pace aging, but this time it's faster._

_Soon, we're nothing but a heap of thrusting and moaning. His hands are wrapped around my member, moving to the same rhythm he was making below. I was a chorus of whimpers and moans, and half-spoken whispers and desires._

_But it's over suddenly, and all to quickly. We both reach our climax within second of each other. His warmth spreads inside of me, mine below me. He pulls out almost instantly, get up, and leaves to the bathroom. I can hear the sound of the shower going now, as I lay in the same place he left me, wishing he had given me another kiss, or perhaps even stayed with me for a minute after. I had gotten what I had wanted, but something was still missing._

I stood, letting the warm water wash over me. Fucking Matt hadn't been half bad. It didn't take a Whammy's student to figure out that this was what had kept him so distant and distracted. Perhaps now his work would have his full attention.

L, is it wring for me to try and manipulate his emotions like this? What would you have done?


End file.
